


Cracks

by Black-Butterfly (wibblywobblytime77)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Assimilation, Monster - Freeform, Short, Transformation, graphic transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblytime77/pseuds/Black-Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cracks were forming. He knew, he could feel them. He knew others could see as well. Everyday the trenches ran deeper and the chasms got longer. He was going to fall, to loose it, plunge right into one of the cracks in his mind, in his sanity.  However, he could act quite well and though the others knew there was something wrong, they didn't know how wrong and they thought they had no real cause for alarm. If one got shivers when looking into his eye, then surely that mad glimmer was a mere trick of the light. They didn't suspect the true madness lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike, to shatter him like so much glass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cracks

The cracks were forming. He knew, he could feel them. He knew others could see as well. Everyday the trenches ran deeper and the chasms got longer. He was going to fall, to loose it, plunge right into one of the cracks in his mind, in his sanity. However, he could act quite well and though the others knew there was something wrong, they didn't know how wrong and they thought they had no real cause for alarm. If one got shivers when looking into his eye, then surely that mad glimmer was a mere trick of the light. They didn't suspect the true madness lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike, to shatter him like so much glass. 

Weeks passed on and on, stretching into infinity. He felt drawn and brittle to the core. At any moment he could snap. It was getting dangerous to be around the others now. He knew that, but what choice did he have? They were all stuck here. Locked in this pitiful excuse for a bunker there were few options and he didn't have the strength to end it as he knew he should. They didn't deserve the fate he suspected awaited them if he stayed and yet as the cracks pierced ever deeper it was getting hard to care. Difficult and time consuming to worry about anything really. The others shied away from him now, if only subconsciously. Honestly he didn't blame them; he was scared too. He he didn't know for sure what would happen when he shattered. When his mind broke into tiny fractured bits, who could say, it was possible that memories would be strewn with nightmares, love with hate, everything scrambled into a pile of shards that would be impossible to fix. He didn't know what to do about it besides apply the tiny bandaids and thin thread to the gaping holes forming in his mind and soul. Would he die, he wondered, when his own personal cataclysm occurred, or would he continue living; a deranged husk bent on tearing the world to pieces to match the inside of his mind. 

Longer and longer the time stretched, he could feel the snap coming. Taste the sharpness on his tongue; it wouldn't be long now. He remained in-between the worlds of the waking and the barren desert of his mind, never fully in one or the other. Time was meaningless but for the sun. Its cycle was his only constant. He was growing almost impatient for the shatter now, now that life without this constant torment of anxious waiting and preparing and worry about what might come after the worst. He could not imagine going back, he’d never felt more alive, and never more dead, perched on the edge of the breaking point, so close to the edge that the cliff was chipping away beneath him. Never had he felt this stress, this fragility, never had he been so close and yet so far. His sanity was long gone by now, there was nothing left but the waiting, the endless waiting. Maybe this is all there was then, no snap, no end, no meaning, just an eternity perched on the edge of nothing, every nerve strutted tight as a violin string ready to be plucked, aching for it. 

As he gave up, gave in, his last hopes driven from him by the endless days, his perch on that precarious edge changed, a slight shift in weight perhaps, a settle in for the long road ahead, filled with nothing forward and nothing behind, the rocks and sand beneath his feet shifted and he toppled forward into the unknown. Falling, no going back. The fall continued the slow stretch that had be working in his fragile and brittle mind and quickened it. 

It was the final push ,the last bit need and his mind responded with a quiet snap. That was all. Nothing seemed to change for an instant be in reality, everything had. The small snap was the beginning of the end for a moment later, a resounding crack echoed through the chasms and fishers in his mind and soul and pieces began to break away, splintering and screeching. Ripped away from him first were his loves, familial and otherwise. The pain of the loss of something so integral was horrible and aching. It streaked through him again and again ripping apart his heart and tearing him to bits. 

The next to be taken, to be broken and shattered away was his childhood it didn't hurt as terribly as the last piece but that was no consolation, it was still unbearable agony. Worse yet was that the pain was beginning to numb, drawing his attention momentarily from the pain of loss. His mind was falling apart around him; slivers falling and striking him, tearing away chunks of him at a time and through all of this he noticed vividly the encroaching feeling of nothing, worse than the deadening fog of novocaine. This foreign numbness could be felt on every side, pulling in, trapping him in the misery while also downsizing it. It was worse in a way than the pain. Pain he understood, pain was safe, insane as that sounded. Of course he was already insane so what did it matter. This new tingling nothingness was alien and cold, all the while as his soul ground to searing slivers and shards around him.

The ice set in slowly, following the numbness, and as it settled around him like a cloak silence fell and everything crystalized, becoming sharp and dangerous. He shivered and looked around at the ice spires and giant crystals that now made up his mind and soul. It seemed the shards that had fallen and broken had now turned to ice. He tried to take a step forward but the floor was quite slick. His feet went out from under him as he lost his balance. With nothing but knife sharp ice to catch himself on he failed and fell, a thin sliver of ice jutting from the floor striking him through the heart as he landed. His hot, wet blood pooled on the floor and with it his final spark of heat and life. He gasped one last time and his eyes fluttered closed as the last part of what was once a man was finally corrupted and destroyed. The sliver of ice did not melt however, instead it grew, taking on a reddish tinge as it absorbed the blood of the fallen soul and grew into the soul’s corpse, freezing and changing the body to its desire. The corpse twitched as its skin grew pale and hard. Frost clung to its lips and eyes. Ice forming in its mouth lengthened to sharp teeth that cut away the lips and cheeks and formed a wide sharp toothed grin. Its now translucent eyelids peeled back from glassy eyes and it stood. The monster that had taken the mans place eyed its domain with triumph. Soon, it would take the whole world in the same way and nothing would be able to stop it ever again. 

The thing that was once a man opened its eyes to the dim light of the bunker and smirked at the people scattered about, unaware of the fate they were about to succumb to. In the depths of the eyes, one might catch a glimpse of an icy sawtoothed grin.


End file.
